A Nightmare on Elm Street:Dreams Never Die
by Z451
Summary: "Fair is fair, and foul is foul, but be damned those who try to be more than an owl."
1. The First Words

Some say dreams are portals to a portal to another realm, where anything is possible, others say they are figments of imagination brought on by hard drugs.

But what about nightmares?

Does any talk about nightmares?

"Oh, they're just bad dreams and such", that's how they describe it, a "bad dream".

But what if they are real?

They're not.

They're not.....

They're not.......

They're no...........

They are..........

They ar.....

They a......

The.....

Th.........

T.........

The word slowly echoes as it breaks up in silence.

The silence of truth.

The truth that there is something out there, and isn't just in the fictional Elm Street, it's everywhere, everywhere you look, everywhere you go, even in something as pure as snow, dreams are everywhere.

And with every dream there is a nightmare to follow it.


	2. The First Nightmare

"Beautiful", I said examining the fully stocked bar I had.

"Now there's not a dry eye in the house," I grinned looking at the vodka filled to it's peak.

In the reflection of the bottle I saw a man enter the bar.

He was scruffy looking and was wearing a muddy, brown overcoat.

The beard he had was grizzly, and he farted as he sat down on the stool.

'I like him already', I thought amused.

The stench was ferocious, bourbon and piss.

"Can I help you sir?", I asked him politely.

Out of no where he starts laughing, a deep and throaty laugh.

"I don't understand", I told him.

He stopped laughing at me, looked me right in the eye annnnd said, "I'd like a bloody Mary please."

"A what?", I responded.

"Don't know what a bloody Mary is, well how about I show ya?", he grabbed me by my shirt.

Then he laughed again, that same throaty laugh, and his face..... was changing.

His face morphed into a burnt brown, blood spewed out his nose, and his overcoat started transforming into a red striped shirt.

Just then something was popping up in his hand, it kept going, stretching his skin to enormous lengths, and his arm split right down the side.

And a...... a...... a...... a claw emerged from it, perked and ripe for slaughter.

"What's the matter Rosy?", he spun around and threw a fedora on his head.

"This place a little too hot for ya?", he faces melted off to reveal a new, more disgusting one.

He laughed again, 'Oh god, not the laugh', I thought pissing my pants.

"I know, I leave you speechless right," he began.

"Can't say a word huh?"

My face trembled at the sound of his voice, and I felt my body grow thick and cold.

"You know what talking's cheap, let's have a drink", he grabbed a bottle of scotch from behind the bar.

"You know, I love this damn stuff", he looked at me.

I tried to act cool, tried to smile, "Yeah, right, can't beat scotch," I said while shaking like a wet dog.

"How about you get us another bottle then?," he suggested.

"Sure", I said trembling even more.

I walked slowly down the bar to the scotch bottle near me.

But when I touched it, I quickly found out it wasn't.

Hands grabbed me and pulled into the bottle.

The next thing I knew, I was a fly in the man's drink.

"Rose, Rosy, where did she go?," he said pretending to look around.

"I'm here, I'm here", I squeaked.

"Oh well," he took up the bottle, and poured me down his throat.

"No, no," I squeaked.

"Mmmmm, .... nice and tasty," he bellowed satisfied.

I then found myself in a pool of green liquids.

"You come here to die?," a voice asked from around me.

"Where are you?," I pleaded.

"Over here," he moaned.

Then I looked over to see a man half dead and burned from acid, lying on a giant block of Swiss cheese with his legs hanging off the side.

"Where are we?," I asked.

"His stomach, and once you get in, you aint never getting out," he sad.

Rushing over the previous layer, more acid came in like a hurricane.

Quickly grabbed some flesh at the top; the acid washed away the other guy.

"Happy trails", he said burning.

Trekking back up the tunnels, I eventually found a light.

Running towards it, he said, "What's that I feel tickling my tongue?"

"Oh it's you," he formed a mini head on the roof of his moth.

"At, at, ah,", he nagged.

"Down the hatch," a long claw extended forcing back down his throat.

"Noooooooooo," I screamed falling into the acid.

...................it was only a dream.


End file.
